


break all the fast clocks

by deeppainpizza



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeppainpizza/pseuds/deeppainpizza
Summary: At least, Barnaby dismisses the idea as impossible until Kotetsu puts on an old superhero series calledJustice Heroesone night. As he starts explaining the cast, Kotetsu points to one man, declaring, “And him! He doesn’t even have powers like everyone else. Just smart with a boatload of money – that’s why he’s got the suit and gadgets. Convenient, right?”It’s so simple, and he hadn't even considered it.(A piece about Barnaby giving Kotetsu the impossible:more time.)[includes spoilers from end of series and (vaguely) The Rising]





	break all the fast clocks

**Author's Note:**

>   
> _you know you gave me all the time_  
>  _oh, did I give enough of mine?_  
>  \- mess is mine, vance joy 

There aren’t enough words to thank Kotetsu for everything he has done and will do for him, so he doesn’t try.

It isn’t a matter of giving up on the sentiment; Kotetsu knows his gratitude, although they haven’t discussed it. He would tell him his progress is the result of his own decisions – yet still smile as if he isn’t aware of his influence, as if there isn’t a stark contrast between the Barnaby Brooks Jr of _then_ and _now_.

Words, however, are not the limit of his expression – or his only resource.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, he realizes that whatever he decides on doesn't have to convey his own feelings at all. At its heart, it should repay Kotetsu for his efforts, so it should be something he _wants_. While Barnaby’s certain Kotetsu would deeply appreciate the sentiment, a speech or a letter outlining exactly what he means to say would mainly satisfy himself.

Something to do with Kaede is an obvious option and, of course, she would listen if he asked her to be on her best behavior, but that isn’t genuine. Nor would it be enough, as much as Kotetsu openly wants that.

Instead, he thinks of the things Kotetsu can’t have or can’t ask for.

 _More time_ , he thinks instantly, but dismisses it. He can’t restore his five minute limit or make him ten years younger.

Even after their reinstatement to First League, Kotetsu has stayed at a stable one minute, but they’re both aware it can’t last. If it somehow does, Kotetsu’s natural age will start to hinder him.

They’re merely operating on borrowed time, waiting to see which happens first.

 

* * *

 

At least, he dismisses the idea as impossible until Kotetsu puts on an old superhero series called _Justice Heroes_ one night. As he starts explaining the cast, Kotetsu points to one man, declaring, “And him! He doesn’t even have powers like everyone else. Just smart with a boatload of money – that’s why he’s got the suit and gadgets. Convenient, right?”

It’s so simple, and he hadn't even considered it.

Barnaby has the funding and, to an extent, the intelligence. He can’t teach himself decades of engineering experience in a few months, but they have a very eager engineering department they’ve befriended. The hardest part may be convincing the network.

“Is it so unbelievable to you that someone could have both?” he murmurs, nonchalantly turning another page of his novel. In actuality, he stops reading, pays attention out of the corner of his eye, and listens. At one point, Kotetsu goes to the fridge, and Barnaby grabs his phone from the coffee table to write down his passing thoughts. He adds to it, hidden behind his book, for the remainder of the night.

In theory, it could work. It’s fiction, but their realities are stranger. It would be a step back in tech, if anything.

 

* * *

 

Saito is the first hurdle – to verify if it could even be possible.

Fortunately, it isn’t suspicious for them to take a lunch together now that Barnaby has taken up programming in his spare time. He’s moved on from coding simple scripts to looking into robotic applications; once Saito found out, he took it upon himself to “assign” some projects – none of which serve Apollon Media, but do give him some hands-on experience. Plus, Saito seems to enjoy correcting him when he’s wrong.

By now, he’s built a few small, rudimentary machines himself, but he certainly can’t make an entire suit alone. That’s where Saito comes in.

When he suggests it, Saito squeaks – typically a good sign – before getting up and quickly shuffling to the door.

“This is a secret, correct?” Saito whispers, hand on the knob.

“Yes, I haven’t mentioned it to Kotetsu or the network yet…”

Saito locks them in with a twist of his wrist, then scuttles with vigor toward the whiteboard. As he uncaps a marker, he excitedly asks, “What are your ideas?”

An hour later, they’ve sketched a prototype using the build of Kotetsu’s current Wild Tiger suit, listed possible features to work with or around Kotetsu’s strengths and weaknesses, and the initial upgrades required if they alter his current model.

“Unfortunately, most of the effort would be on your shoulders,” Barnaby says eventually, taking photos of the whiteboard covered in two sets of multi-colored handwriting, “but I want to help as much as possible with whatever you need. Is that alright?”

“For Tiger?” Saito asks, then titters as if he’s been asked a stupid question. Maybe he has. “It is no problem at all.”

 

* * *

 

Next is the network. Now with a concrete proposal in hand, Barnaby bypasses Lloyds and video calls Agnes directly from one of Apollon’s empty conference rooms.

“If we allow this,” she says after he explains, “it’ll create a precedent that just anyone could become a hero. This is a show about _super_ heroes.”

He anticipated her hesitance and prepared his rebuttals accordingly; this was the third most likely response, and the easiest to sway. “It seems to me that that’s a viable angle to play up. The average citizen won’t have the money or technology required to build something sustainable, so they wouldn’t make it through the application process. Regardless, it would be inspiring to viewers, would it not? ‘ _You, too, can be a hero!_ ’ At the very least, it feeds into Kotetsu’s current audience, which enjoys rooting for the underdog.”

Her expression twists into something thoughtful; the fact that she isn’t immediately responding is proof that she’s actually considering it. Agnes doesn’t pretend to listen to be polite, so her silence is encouraging.

“It’s a human element we haven’t entirely explored,” Agnes says eventually, thinking aloud now. “It’s feel-good, could incorporate it into campaigns aimed at younger demographics, recycling, reporting suspicious activity, volunteerism, et cetera.”

Barnaby slides in his last convincing argument before she can talk herself out of it.

“You needn’t worry about profit loss either. If Apollon refuses to fund the project, I will. Out of pocket.”

There’s a quirk of her eyebrow, piqued by the prospect of _more_ money, and she finally smiles. “I would agree to six months. A probationary period. If focus testing doesn’t respond to it, Tiger will most likely be moved back to Second League, even with the suit. Discuss it with Apollon. If they come to me, I’ll argue in your favor.”

“Understood,” he replies, and she ends the call before he can thank her.

 

* * *

 

Like Agnes is swayed by ratings, Lloyds is swayed by the bottom line, and Kotetsu isn’t a moneymaker. It’s a fact. He doesn’t have the same appeal as other heroes, hemorrhages money when it comes to merchandise sales, and with few sponsorships, they rely on Barnaby to recoup the loss.

In his office, Llyods looks at him with thinly veiled disdain, overlayed by a professional smile.

“Now, Barnaby, I don’t mean to patronize you, but it _is_ a show about superheroes, you know. A _super_ hero has _super_ powers. Of course, we would hate to break up the duo, but if Tiger can’t perform to expectations–”

“Agnes approved of the idea,” Barnaby smiles back and Llyods’ pleasantry falters before he recollects it twice over. Agnes outranks him and Barnaby is his star player; he’s been cornered already, so Barnaby kicks out the last leg he has to stand on to deny the request. “Additionally, I will fund the project myself if necessary. ”

“I would have to discuss it with the board. You understand.”

“I do. And, while I would hate to patronize you as well, I will remind you that my own retirement hinges on Tiger’s.”

Llyods frowns as the facade drops, muttering, “Right…”

 

* * *

 

A week later, Llyods asks him to stay behind after their daily meeting and announces the board has agreed to the following terms: Barnaby will pay for the supplies, they’ll pay Saito for the time spent on it “for the patents,” and Kotetsu will have six months to prove his worth without powers per Agnes’ recommendation. Should ratings fall, “the decision will be reevaluated.”

It’s a courteous way of suggesting a demotion or forced retirement, but approval is approval.

Before going back to his desk, Barnaby stops by Saito’s lab to tell him the news. When he pokes his head in, Saito is performing some minor tuneups with Ben’s help. Saito glances over his shoulder before screaming over his headset, “BARNABY! BARNABY! COME IN! I WAS JUST TELLING BEN ABOUT OUR PROJECT. DO YOU HAVE AN UPDATE FOR ME?”

“I do,” Barnaby winces, closing the door behind him. “Can you please take off your headset? Remember, this is a secret…”

“SORRY. I AM JUST SO EXCITED,” Saito says, pulling it off, and continues at a near-silent whisper. Better. “What did they say?”

“We have approval, if Kotetsu can sustain or improve his ratings within six months afterward. If not, I suspect he’ll be let go, but we’ll see what happens during the trial period.”

“Oh, that’ll be no problem.” Ben laughs as he inspects their suits, hung on their frames. “If anyone can sustain ratings, it’s Kotetsu.”

Saito nods. “The bar _is_ low. I say that as a fan.”

“Also, I can’t help but notice that you have done a poor job of keeping a secret,” Barnaby accuses, leaning against the console next to Saito. “You already told Ben.”

“He doesn’t count. He’s helping.”

“Well, he volunteered me,” Ben corrects as he joins them, pulling up the other chair, “but, to be fair, I would have agreed on my own.”

“I think we can use all the help we can get, so it’s fine. But no more. It doesn’t leave this room. Do you two understand me?”

Saito pretends to zip his mouth shut and Ben shrugs. “Sure, but can I ask why it’s so confidential? Now that it’s approved, it seems like it would be easier to work with Kotetsu on it.”

“It’s more dramatic this way,” Saito comments. Barnaby waves him off.

“Well, first of all, he would try to be _too_ involved. At a certain point, it will make sense to bring him in, but only once he can no longer interfere.” Saito and Ben nod at that, because… it’s the truth. Kotetsu would sit down with a notepad filled with unreasonable requests that he simply finds cool, and it will be a headache to deny each one.

But, there _is_ more to it than that. With two of Kotetsu’s confidants, he thinks it’s okay to express it.

“I also have a theory that he wouldn’t let us do it,” Barnaby continues. “Not that he’s not interested, but that he wouldn’t want us to make such a fuss. I’m spending my own time and money on it, I’m sure Saito will work on it on and off the clock, and this technically isn’t even _your_ department, Ben. We haven’t set a concrete timeline yet, but we’re looking at months of work, aren’t we? I suspect he’ll see it as too much effort to hold off the inevitable.”

The three of them are silent for a moment, struggling to argue against it, but Saito speaks up first.

“Well, he should have made worse friends.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ll be busy the next few months,” Barnaby says lightly one night as they settle into bed. Kotetsu throws his arm over Barnaby’s stomach as he rests his dark-haired head on his shoulder and angles to see what Barnaby’s reading. It’s a textbook, so Kotetsu huffs, finds more interest in tugging fuzzballs off their blanket. “Saito and I are working on a project.”

It’s a calculated move, creating an excuse to fall back on. A truth he won’t have to try to dodge later.

“Months? What the hell?” Kotetsu groans, starting to make a little pile of fuzz now in the crook of Barnaby’s elbow. “What sort of project takes _months_? I thought you were working on, like, homework.”

“People who ask too many questions won’t find out.”

Kotetsu stops his plucking, and inwardly, Barnaby smiles. With an incentive, Kotetsu will at least try to behave and Barnaby will have fewer inquiries to shut down.

Next, Kotetsu props himself up on his elbow, lips pursed and eyes suspicious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wonder.”

“Are you _allowed_ to tell me about it?” Kotetsu says, in the tone of someone instigating a round of 20 Questions.

“So you can tell everyone within hearing range? Please.”

“Interesting…” He puts a hand to his chin as he reconsiders his approach. “So you can’t.”

“I would prefer not to.”

“Does that make it a surprise for someone?”

“It makes it none of your business,” Barnaby replies with ease. Kotetsu may as well have asked what color it is. He won’t be able to get an answer or wear at his resolve. “And don’t bother going around me to butter up Saito. He’s aware of the conditions.”

He turns coy now, pressing his luck. “Is it a surprise for _me_?”

Barnaby glances at him, unimpressed. “With you being the way that you are, do you actually think that I could work on a surprise for you while right under your nose? I would tell you what I was working on just to keep you out of my hair.”

Kotetsu frowns, face screwing up as he hits a dead end in that line of questioning. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Barnaby hums, turning another page.

 

* * *

 

Juggling work, patrol, shoots, interviews, the project, and paying an appropriate amount of attention to Kotetsu is manageable until just over three months in.

Barnaby’s schedule has always been overly full, so that isn’t a problem. However, they’re consistently leaving the office later and later, only to come back early the next morning and start the day all over. And it’s been in that state for weeks.

Saito’s starting to look tired and is slower to respond to even basic questions. Barnaby is more frequently walking away from his laptop to reset his thinking, and even then, he finds it harder to resume once he returns. Ben helps where he can, has found a niche ability in distracting Kotetsu some nights, but he doesn’t have to work the same way they do.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Barnaby mutters one evening at 11 PM rather than the usual 2 AM. He’s hardly made any progress after two hours and he’s doubting his ability to find the right mindset tonight.

Saito looks over at him, pausing his tinkering in the Wild Tiger helmet. “Already?”

“By all means, keep going if you want,” he mutters, pulling off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes, “but I may need a day, if that’s alright.”

Saito shrugs, but not unkindly. “You’re a hero, not an engineer. This is my field. I’m impatient for the end result while you’re impatient to see Tiger’s reaction. I get it, so go home.”

“I’m having trouble distinguishing if you’re being blunt or if you’re disappointed in me.”

Saito looks back up at him, stares blankly before he shifts to lift his headset and yank it onto his head. Then, he screams tinnily, “I GET IT, SO GO HOME.”

“Somehow, yelling doesn’t clarify,” Barnaby mumbles, rubbing at his entire face now.

Saito sighs and takes off the headset, then dives back into the Tiger helmet with the screwdriver. “I don’t mind. You see, this is what I’m married to,” Saito says, using his free hand to gesture to his lab and equipment, “but your partner is at home. So go home. Remind yourself why you’re doing this and be less grouchy tomorrow.”

“Well… that’s more clear.” _And he has a point,_ Barnaby thinks as he smiles. The tension releases from his shoulders at the notion of leaving now rather than than hours from now, and he pushes himself away from the desk to start packing up. “I’ll order delivery for you, what do you want?”

It’s a meager way of showing his appreciation, but it’s one Saito always appreciates nonetheless.

When Barnaby’s finally getting in the door just over a half-hour later, Kotetsu glances over the back of the couch, surprise evident.

“Hey! You’re home early tonight!”

“Tired,” he replies back as he toes his shoes off by the door. After dropping his bag off by the kitchen, he sits heavily next to Kotetsu, who immediately pushes him down and forces him to rest his head in his lap. He goes easy, but stays tense once he’s horizontal. “But not this tired,” he says flatly without bothering to get up, “I still have things to do.”

Kotetsu runs his fingers through his hair and, just like that, Barnaby gives in entirely, curling his legs up and settling in with his cheek squished against his thigh. Kotetsu alone carries the warmth and comfort of home, and once it washes over him, he can’t disregard it.

The television is practically white noise, a distant secondary stimulus, and Barnaby thinks that maybe he _can_ allow himself to be this tired, just for a minute. Then, he’ll change and take another look at the code in bed before trying to catch up on his sleep.

“Relax,” Kotetsu murmurs, wrapping one of his curls around his finger as he likes to do, and Barnaby shuts his eyes. Again, just for a minute. “I still don’t know what the hell you’re working on, yet I _can_ tell you you’re working too hard on it.”

“It’s important.”

Kotetsu dismisses him, giving the curl a harmless tug. “It can wait.”

 _For how long?_   He thinks, opening his eyes.

He hasn’t checked in on Kotetsu’s time recently, but Saito has been monitoring it too and hasn’t mentioned any issues. His performance on-air hasn't suffered, though he does use his power more conservatively. It’s fine for now.

Finishing the suit before his power degrades has been a priority; the data doesn’t suggest a need to worry, but the deterioration could start any day. The rate can’t be calculated either, seemingly random even with the extensive notes Kotetsu took the first time they dwindled.

(When Kotetsu had given the notebook over, black bars covering some of the contents, Barnaby had asked what he was hiding. _Just some personal thoughts on it,_ he had laughed as he shrugged it off. _You don’t need those parts, right? I don’t want you reading my diary!_

Barnaby didn’t pry further, but some lines were redacted more cleanly than others. Sometimes, the letters would bubble through the other side of the paper, still legible despite the ink on the other side. And one line – _What am I supposed to tell him?_   – is burned into his memory, makes his heart ache each time he remembers it. He failed to support him then, but he won’t fall short again.)

Now, Kotetsu at least shares the burden of helplessness, and the day when his powers disappear looms as an inevitability. Barnaby thinks they have the time – wants to believe he has it – but it could come tomorrow as only a few seconds lost, could be halved in the following days.

They’re working against a clock they can’t read.

Barnaby sits up and leans over to catch Kotetsu’s mouth, the corner first as he gets his attention, then on the lips, and he laughs even as Barnaby kisses him fully. “Give me a month,” he breathes, his hands coming up to the sides of Kotetsu’s face, kissing him more urgently, “just one month.”

“What’s gotten into you?!” Kotetsu keeps laughing as he kisses back, arms coming around his middle despite his confusion. “Until you’re done with… whatever?”

“Exactly, just wait,” he replies, exhaustion fading as he does exactly what Saito told him to do: remind himself why he’s doing this.

He forgoes potential rest to sink his fingers into Kotetsu’s hair and lick his bottom lip to encourage him to open to him. Kotetsu kisses back steadily, in no hurry and trying to set a slower pace, but Barnaby rejects it, pushes until Kotetsu swears under his breath.

He pulls Barnaby in without grace, big palms on either side of his neck, his thumbs on his cheeks. He can cave so easily with the right provocation, his hopeless romantic nuances giving way to need, insistence, bruising.

This is their language; tenderness has its merits, but they’ve rarely made progress between themselves with softness.

They don’t make it up the stairs, choosing instead to rut against each other like half-clothed teenagers while the television drones on quietly. Biting into Kotetsu’s unscarred shoulder, Barnaby comes first, too pent-up and tired and in love to last longer, and Kotetsu lets him sink his teeth in, groaning out himself and gripping his hip hard enough to hurt. Just as he starts to recover and he’s about to change his focus, Kotetsu guides their mouths back together and kisses him slow and deep as he smooths the hair out of his face.

He lets himself go boneless under Kotetsu's hands, enjoying the interlude, but their demeanor shifts again minutes later when Kotetsu’s bucking into his mouth and gasping out his nickname. It’s all he can do to remember to breathe, tongue curling around and lapping at Kotetsu’s cock at every opportunity, and he basks in the push-and-pull of it (and considers, briefly, how absurd it is that Kotetsu ever thought his devotion was conditional.)

 

* * *

 

“Can we finish in one month?” Barnaby asks the next day, unrelated to the breakthrough that Saito is currently showing him. He isn’t trying to be rude, but what Saito resolved was a major hurdle; now more pieces are falling into place, bringing the suit that much closer to completion. He can see it now. And, after last night, he needed to bring it up anyway.

Saito flinches, looking at him over his shoulder while he holds the Wild Tiger helmet with both hands. Then, he frowns. “Done? No. Presentable? Maybe.”

“That will work,” Barnaby says, moving to his own spot to set up. “And thank you, by the way. I hope you went home at a reasonable time.”

Saito continues to look at him suspiciously, disregarding his appreciation. “What did you promise?”

“Nothing unreasonable, apparently,” he smiles with some coyness.

 

* * *

 

They actually manage it. Some elements have been pushed back further – not that Kotetsu needs to know that, lest he squeeze in some last-minute recommendations – but they have a functioning suit standing before them in the lab.

Barnaby’s bank account has taken a noticeable hit, he’s ready to sleep for about twelve hours straight, and some of the bruises from the testing process are still healing (after all, who else would be able to test the suit’s integrity against damages?).

But here it is: a set of Wild Tiger power armor that should cushion Kotetsu like a fragile egg, keeping him safe from their everyday dangers.

(It’s actually the approach they’ve taken. A typical human has some self-preservation, some level of protection in their flesh. Kotetsu doesn’t think and will rush in without forethought. He may as well be an egg.)

It stands in the lab, a tangible display of his gratitude, and he can’t look away. It’s right there. With considerable help, he’s actually done it.

Even then, it still feels like it’s not enough.

“Can I show Kotetsu tonight?” he asks once Saito returns with celebratory ice cream from the cafeteria.

“So impatient,” Saito mumbles, licking his own spoon. He sets Barnaby’s cup down on the bench and Barnaby nudges it back toward him. Saito had insisted on following his ice cream tradition despite Barnaby telling him he wasn’t hungry, but Saito clearly doesn’t mind the double portion, pulling it closer to himself after he sits down. “Just remember to credit me. I worked hard, you know!”

“It will be the first thing out of my mouth, I promise.” Barnaby laughs, getting up to call Kotetsu.

 

* * *

 

Telling Kotetsu he can finally show him the project in his initial call was a mistake. He won’t stop prying.

Barnaby says as much over dinner, pouring them another glass of wine each, and Kotetsu grins at him, “And you can‘t take it back now. You worked way too hard to throw it all away at the last second.”

Barnaby peers at him, doesn’t say a word, lips pressed in a flat line. Even in its minimalism, it suggests, _do you think that I won’t?_

“I’ll stop,” Kotetsu follows up, raising his wine back to his lips woundedly.

 

* * *

 

After eight o’clock, Apollon doesn’t empty, but the 9-to-5 staff have gone home, leaving most employees shuttered in their own departments. The walk to Saito’s lab is quiet and mostly uninterrupted, aside from some distant ringing phones and a few distracted passersby – nothing compared to its usual bustle. It leaves them some privacy, so Kotetsu gets cheeky, putting one hand in Barnaby’s back pocket as they get closer.

“OK, so I’ve figured out it’s for me,” Kotetsu says, pressed against his side and paying more attention to Barnaby’s face than where he’s walking. “So I’m definitely thinking it’s a new gadget. Flamethrower?”

“I can think of few worse things for you to be equipped with,” Barnaby replies. With Saito’s door less than a few dozen feet away, he compulsively runs through what he’d like to say in his head again, like he has since the project began. Outwardly, he continues bickering; internally, he rehearses.

“And I can think of a thousand uses!”

“Does not guarantee they’re _good_ uses.”

“Fine. Tasers?”

“You’re just borrowing from other heroes’ powers now.”

“ _How–_ ” Kotetsu starts, offended, then puts it together. Fire. Electricity. Maybe he’ll suggest an air cannon next. “Oh. Huh. I mean, isn’t it flattering for them if the first cool things I think of are their specialties?”

“So let _them_ do what they do best,” Barnaby argues, detaching from him once the door is in reach. He grabs the handle first, keeping Kotetsu from barging in, and takes a steadying breath. “First of all, I have to tell you that Saito did most of the work.”

Grinning now, Kotetsu crosses his arms. “So it’s a big, complicated surprise.”

“Yes. Now, your first choice of ‘pet robot dog’ was incorrect, but I think you’ll still like it.” Barnaby rolls his eyes, but the familiarity of their exchanges is a comfort he has to cut short. Entering the room, he flicks on the lights and shuts the door behind Kotetsu, who walks up to the main console.

“It’s my suit.” He says simply, rightly unsurprised, and points his thumb toward it on display in the testing area. “Upgrades?”

“In a way,” Barnaby replies, standing next to him now. “It’s a _version_ of your suit that doesn’t require Hundred Power. Speed and damage resistance have been accounted for, though you won’t be _as_ physically strong. It was difficult to replicate that while keeping it lightweight. Different, more durable materials were used, so it may feel heavier, though you should adjust easily. It has the same equipment as before, plus some additions Saito and I thought would supplement the lack of NEXT abilities.”

His explanation verges on jargon, carrying details Kotetsu doesn’t need to know right away, but Barnaby’s testing the waters, gauging his reactions as it settles in. Kotetsu stopped looking at the suit about ten words in, now focused on Barnaby. He isn’t speaking, but he’s listening. The words are landing, evident by the vulnerability written over his face; this is why he didn’t want Saito here.

“So… it’s not a perfect replica,” Barnaby continues, looking back at him now, “but… it should give you a few more years once your powers are gone.”

Kotetsu opens, closes his mouth. He tries to smile, but the edges shake. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away, settles on, “Bunny, this is…”

He trails off, and that’s it. There’s no further argument from him, but Barnaby can supply the slew of protests fighting for the forefront of Kotetsu’s mind: _too much, he can’t accept it, the network wouldn’t allow it, he’s already accepted it so Barnaby should too._ He knows him too well not to anticipate his excuses.

Barnaby doesn’t believe in limits, and Kotetsu has decided on his own too easily. And just as Kotetsu has acted as his driving force, as his anchor, as the hand pulling him toward something greater – he’ll return the favor.

“I’m not done,” he says, both gentle and stern. “I don’t think you are either. I know your powers aren’t gone yet, but when they are, you won’t be forced to mourn them. You’ll be able to stop when you’re ready, whenever that may be.”

There’s a break in Kotetsu’s expression, like he’s unable to decide on what face to make, and he looks at the ground, still rubbing his neck, as he sighs.

“This is... a lot. Are you sure you… well, I guess you’re already done with it, right?”

“Practically,” Barnaby confirms. “There are some loose ends we need you for, some final adjustments. There’s a reason I waited to show you, you know.”

Kotetsu’s reaction is not a gentle rejection, Barnaby’s confident in that. Kotetsu loves to give without knowing how to take, and he has to work through it before wholly accepting something so substantial.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” Kotetsu eventually says, as Barnaby knew he would.

“Were you ready to retire after all?” he asks, well-aware he absolutely isn’t, but it’s the nudge Kotetsu needs to embrace his gift.

“No, that’s not it. You know I’d do this as long as possible, it’s just–”

“So what’s the problem?” Barnaby asks lightly.

When Kotetsu looks up at him without answer – because there is no problem, no actual excuse he can use that Barnaby will buy, he can’t actually bring himself to deny it when asked to – Barnaby finally smiles and Kotetsu’s restraint crumbles. He groans, rubbing his hands over his face as he bends at the waist, and Barnaby reaches one hand over to rub at his shoulder blades.

“I don’t know what to say,” Kotetsu mumbles, strained. “Thank you?”

“Thank _you_ , actually,” he smiles, even as Kotetsu sniffles as subtly as possible, and, while it’s perhaps inappropriate, Barnaby finally feels the relief of success. “You’ve done so much for me, and I thought this could show my appreciation, repay you in some way.”

Parting his fingers, Kotetsu peeks at him. “Huh? You never owed me anything.”

“You can say that, but it doesn’t make it true.” Barnaby sighs, patting Kotetsu’s back once. “At least accept the sentiment behind it for my own sake.”

Kotetsu chuckles, still somewhat wet and ragged; Barnaby blinks and Kotetsu hits him like a wall, solid muscle despite his slender frame, as he pulls him in. His arms wrap around Barnaby’s shoulders like a vice, and even though he expected emotions, it still catches him by surprise in its abruptness. He keeps his feet planted firmly on the ground to keep them from toppling over and reciprocates, fingers splaying on Kotetsu's back. _This_ is the reaction he was waiting for and Barnaby revels in it, months of tension melting off his body as he relaxes in Kotetsu's hold.  

“You’re really just as stupid as you think I am, you know,” Kotetsu laughs into the crook of his neck, voice still cracking, and Barnaby frowns at the insult. “Seriously, you better not think you owe me anything. For anything!”

“Sure, let me just blatantly disregard everything you’ve ever done for me…” he murmurs flatly, tasked with the impossible.

Kotetsu breathes in brokenly, a laugh – just before Barnaby's kissed open-mouthed, his jaw held steady in Kotetsu’s palms. Kotetsu doesn't typically kiss like this unclothed, and he yields to him, drowns in satisfaction.

Words have never been their crutch – clumsy, easily misinterpreted, difficult – but he understands this, reading Kotetsu’s desperate thanks in the way he kisses him, and Barnaby thanks him back in turn.

He can tell him about the stipulation about ratings later, show him the intricacies of the suit with Saito this week. All of it can wait.

For the first time in almost two years, it feels like it can all wait.

**Author's Note:**

> for kariedo @ tumblr for a secret santa between friends :')) I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS!


End file.
